Tuesday, September 15, 2015

K Is For Kiss

Jennifer talks about first kisses…

In romances, as in life, first kisses are filled with “will
they, won’t they” moments. There’s the first inkling it might happen, followed
by each person thinking and wondering about it. And then there’s the moment
just before the kiss happens. The air gets heavy and crackles with attraction,
they lean into each other and magic happens.

Unable to resist, Gideon pulled her down
toward him and kissed her gently on the lips. As anticipated, her lips were
soft, warm and delicious. “Thanks for coming with me tonight. Get home safe.”
He dropped her hand and backed up, watching as she got into the car pulled
away. You fool, he thought to
himself. What did you do that for? You
turned a perfectly fine evening into a disaster. She’s never going to want to
be with you again. And you’re never going to be able to get that kiss out of
your mind.

“I should probably go and let you get some
sleep. I’ll pick you up Saturday around 11?”

“Perfect. I hope I’ll be recovered by then.”

He laughed, kissed her cheek and let himself
out the door.

She put her hand to her cheek. His lips
barely touched the skin, yet her cheek burned as if he’d branded her. They’d
been warm and dry against her face. What would they be like against her lips?
She leaned against the door and listened for the ding of the elevator’s
arrival. It was whisking away the man she grew more attached to each time she
was with him. She gripped the doorknob and willed herself not to turn it, not
to open the door, not to run after him.

The elevator dinged. He’d kissed her.

***

Her cheek? Did he kiss her cheek? Oh hell.
What was he, fourteen?

Josh continued to berate himself in silence
as he flagged a taxi outside her building. He gave his apartment address to the
driver and stared out the window.

Why didn’t he kiss her lips, like a man? Like
a man who was attracted to a delectable woman.

He didn’t have a good answer for that
question, except their relationship was new and he was still working things
out.

She’d asked for his assistance and he’d run
to her. It’s what he did. He helped people, and helping Miriam gave him a
satisfaction deep in his soul. By aiding her, he established a connection
between his heart and hers, except he couldn’t tell her.

If he did, she’d in all likelihood run from
him, especially after all the support he’d tried to give her sister. She’d
think he was doing the same thing, maybe confusing the two of them, and she’d
be far from the truth.

Sometimes, the first kiss takes a while to happen. One
character or the other isn’t quite ready, the signals get crossed, or the
timing isn’t right.

She met his gaze and he leaned down. His
breath warmed her and filled the space between them with a pulsating force. She
longed for him to take her in his arms, to press his body against hers. The
smell of his shampoo drifted toward her and she saw his veins pulse at his
temples. He intoxicated her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself
in his embrace. Instead, he pulled away. Disappointment soared through her and
her face burned.

“Goodnight.” His voice echoed in the
darkness.

“Goodnight.” She turned and walked to her
car. The gentle ocean breeze did little to clear Valerie’s mind. As she drove
home, she remembered how he’d flinched every time she touched him and had pulled
away from her instead of kissing her. Her cheeks heated, though whether from
embarrassment, attraction or frustration, she didn’t know. She didn’t
understand him.

In those instances, often, it’s the thought of the kiss that
is arousing as the actual act itself.

As he walked down the hall, he heard music.
The upbeat, folksy Klezmer beat made his pace quicken. His heart skipped when
he heard Samara sing and he paused outside her door to listen. The air around
him was stifling, his jacket pressed too tight against his neck and his face
flushed as he listened to the beautiful music float out of her mouth. How could
someone so clumsy create such enchanting music and hide within such a beautiful
exterior? Her black curls bounced in time to the music and he stuck his hands
in his pockets to prevent them from reaching out to touch them. They would be
silky soft and would curl around each finger. He could imagine the smooth heat
at the nape of her neck as he buried his hands in her hair and tilted her face
toward him. Brown eyes would meet his, darken to burnt umber and disappear into
topaz slits as she’d close her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. Full, pink
lips would pucker and glisten as he’d lean in toward her. He closed his eyes
and let the music and the fantasy wash over him. As he braced his hand against
the doorframe, the cool molding beneath his hand snapped him back to reality and
he searched his pockets for something to wipe the sweat from his face. His
fingers fumbled with her soft handkerchief in his pocket, and his attention
returned to the task at hand. Return her handkerchief. That’s all. Nothing
more. He waited for a break in the music and cleared his throat.

From my WIP:Taking his own advice to let go and just feel, he bent down and softly pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips quivered under his, and he fully expected her to pull back. Maybe even throw a punch. He braced himself, but to his surprise, she rose up on her toes, closed her eyes, and leaned into the kiss. A feeling unlike any he’d ever experienced flooded through him. Tenderness, whipped by a lust much stronger than he’d ever felt for Candy. He pressed down, trying to let the touch of his lips reassure Stormy without revealing his secrets or demanding her trust. Her lips responded with a give and take that he ached to explore, but didn’t dare. This wasn’t the time or the place, and he wasn’t sure he could ever unlock his heart again. Pulling back, he felt the soft rush of her sigh. Her lids fluttered open and revealed eyes that glistened with invitation and permission. Again, he wrestled with his emotions. He ached to make love to her, but unless she knew the truth of his intentions, he’d be nothing but a trickster and a cad. She’d end up hating him and berating herself. He refused to hurt her like that. She was too special. Better to stick to his plan—help her overcome her social awkwardness and step back. He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Let’s start over. I’m the man, your superior. You’re a woman, my…”